The island sat deep in the White Sea. On the West coast of the island was a small fortification; it used to be an outpost for the Old Russian Empire. It was concealed by a tall cold, stone wall and thick pine trees that were coated in a thin, delicate layer of snow. Icicles dangled on the lush green needles and dripped very slowly. The giant trees acted like guardians to a dark secret within the walls of the ancient fort.

“They treat us like animals. The way they speak to us, the way they look at us and the way they keep us. They’re the inhuman ones. We were the first to be taken here; we were the first to experience this new punishment. I welcome you, comrade, to your new home – Solovetsky Island.”

A chilling wind whistled highly, throwing a powder of snow into the air. A wire fence completely surrounded the installation and was topped with twisted steel-coloured barbed wire that shined brilliantly in the sunlight. It shook slightly in the wind’s breath.

“Shield your nose from the smell as much as you want, my friend, but you won’t be able to escape the stench of this place. As much as you resist, you do get used to the putrid smell of death. We too tried to resist at first, it’s not healthy to be in the accompaniment of death, just don’t let it consume you; don’t let it be the end of you. We find thinking of the one food that we desire helps to modify the smell to something more pleasant. Food is sparse here though, so remember to keep your desired food to yourself, otherwise, my friend, some of the people here are quick to madness as they wish to steal the food from you. Even if it is just a thought.”

There were many shabby wooden buildings in the complex, which looked like they couldn’t resist the elements thrown against them. They creaked wearily. Hushed voices could be heard from within one of the shacks, someone dared to laugh and they were quickly silenced by their company.

“I see by your clothes you used to be in the army. You’re not alone. Don’t share your story with us if you don’t want to, there are plenty here who are just shadows of their previous selves, no story, just passing through this place. I used to be a man of relative importance myself, comrade, I was the Menshevik chair of the soviet of a small town just south from here.

“Our seat was contested by the Socialist Revolutionaries, so we worked in coalition. Once we saw how the greatest revolution on earth was heading we decided it was time to rise up once again. The Socialists were in close contact to the terrorist group that had links to the shooting of Lenin. We knew if they couldn’t change the minds of the stubborn Bolsheviks by that act we had to try something else. Our target was the secret police – Cheka. Arrangements were made and we were soon in the possession of a bomb that could be hidden in a briefcase. Each person on the mission had been affected by the police, whether it was directly through their family, through friends or just colleagues. All of us knew exactly what we were doing and we all wanted to enjoy the moment.”

Despite the snow shower, the ground was still mainly naked, showing thick mud that looked like it had been ploughed and as they walked the ground gurgled in resistance. A few roots were sticking out of the dirt and straw was scattered and trodden into the ground. Puddles formed of melted snow wherever there was a depression in the earth.

“As you see, I’m here though, we didn’t succeed. One person in the group informed Cheka. We never found out whom: three of our group just disappeared, obviously two were executed and the perpetrator got off free, or at least that’s probably what they promised him. Anyway, let’s continue the grand tour, hey comrade?

“I’ll point out all the places you’ll need to know about. That’s the guards’ - my hands? Yes, I was subject to the glove trick, as many here were. A great way of extracting a confession whatever loyalties you may have to others. As I was saying, that’s the guards’ barracks. Go near there and you will be shot without hesitation. They leave the bodies of fellow comrades out for a few days to warn off others about trying anything. Then they force some of us to bury them. Let’s move on quickly.”

The barracks was a metal structure that was painted a dull grey; someone had scrawled ‘no entry’ on the door, which was slightly ajar. A warm light crept out of the door, as if it was trying to escape. Someone was muttering within, they coughed, then a hand appeared at the door and flicked out a cigarette, its heat was immediately eaten by the cool ground. The door was firmly shut behind them and the sound of the metal door being slammed echoed around.

“Over here is the work shed, when you get assigned to a task this is where you will find all you need to carry it out. Opposite this is the mess hall, we come here twice a day, once early in the morning, then again late at night. Don’t expect too much from here. The menu, my friend, is quite limited.”

A large, looming part wood and part metal building was in front of them. On its side was a small black board, which had a cracked wooden frame, it was missing one side, whatever had been written up had been smeared off and only a white smudge was left.

“All the other buildings you see around you are the houses, they fit twenty five – the guards can get forty in. They’re filthy and are prime conditions for disease, don’t worry about rats crawling over you in the night; it’s not the worst thing that could happen to you during stay. Tell me where your hut is and I’ll – yes, sir? Yes. Yes. No, I’m just – Yes, sir. I will see you later, comrade, perhaps.”